


brink

by pockettreatpete



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: M/M, Mild D/s, Orgasm Control, adventures in kink with pete and chasten, otp: wait that's my word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:20:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23248378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pockettreatpete/pseuds/pockettreatpete
Summary: Chasten has A Plan. Pete is more than eager to follow it.
Relationships: Chasten Buttigieg/Pete Buttigieg
Comments: 17
Kudos: 40





	brink

**Author's Note:**

> Happy first Saturday of Social Distancing, a day traditionally celebrated by posting porn on the internet. 
> 
> The best person in Pete world celebrated her 25th birthday yesterday and a month ago she told me she wanted edging fic so I--- tried? Happy Birthday crimson, I love you.

_Pete exhales shakily. Jet black eyelashes flutter against the tops of his flushed cheeks, his eyes restlessly shut. His hands are resting above his head, balled into loose fists. His chest lifts and falls with every labored breath and his hips move minutely, rhythmically, as if they’re entirely beyond his control. He’s_ beautiful.

*

**February 18 - Las Vegas, NV**

“What?”

“I said,” Chasten whispered against the shell of Pete’s ear, voice thrown deep and smooth. “How long do you think I should make you wait?”

Chasten bit the inside of his lip not to laugh as Pete’s face betrayed how quickly his mind went into overdrive. When it became clear an answer wasn’t forthcoming from his helplessly aroused husband, he leaned close again. 

“I was thinking Super Tuesday.”

“That’s two weeks,” Pete exclaimed feebly. He was clearly already preparing to acquiesce but still protesting for show. 

“Yes it is. Is that a problem, Peter?” He rocked his hips for emphasis and couldn’t hold back a triumphant grin when the ambivalence on Pete’s features gave way to slack-jawed pleasure. 

“No,” Pete breathed. 

“Good.”

**February 20 - Phoenix, AZ**

Even though he was expecting Pete’s call it was still – after all this time – a thrill to see his husband and hear his deep voice on the other end. 

“How was your day?”

“I…” He frowned, tried to isolate separate parts of his day. “It was good. I can’t…” He sighed. “I can’t really remember?” 

Pete laughed lightly. “I know how you feel,” he said, exhaling deeply and leaning back against the pillows. “It’s getting intense.”

“P, it’s been intense for a while now.” 

“I suppose,” Pete said casually, as if he hadn’t been running at full speed for weeks already. “Hey,” he added after a moment, “You said you’d tell me the plan tonight.” He was trying to still sound casual. Chasten grinned. His husband was a terrible actor. 

“Oh, the plan?” 

“Yeah.” Pete ducked his head, embarrassed by his own eagerness, then looked up with a small smile. 

“Well,” Chasten said, drawing the word out and watching Pete staring at him. He drew his bottom lip in between his teeth and bit it, noting Pete’s shaky inhale. “I was thinking Saturday I’m going to fuck you. Rough, just the way you like it. I’ll leave you so fucking hard, and you’re going to love it.” 

Pete licked his lips, but didn’t say anything, so Chasten continued: “Then on Wednesday you’re going to blow me before the debate.” 

“Yeah,” Pete breathed quietly. 

His eyes had taken on some of that glazed look that Chasten fucking loved more than anything. That guy, horny, glassy-eyed Pete, was up for anything, and would put himself entirely in Chasten’s hands without question. Fortunately, Chasten’s hands were more than capable. 

“After the debate, if you do really well, I might fuck you again, if you want it. Do you think you’ll want it, Peter?”

“Yes,” Pete replied immediately. He’d closed his eyes, leaning back against the pillows.

“Then we’re not in the same place again until Saturday, I don’t think. And we’re not allowed to do dirty stuff on camera so maybe I’ll just call you and you can listen to me jerk off.”

He was so pleased with that idea that he almost missed Pete’s bitten-off ‘fuck’. He laughed delightedly.

“Are you okay there, Peter?”

Pete didn’t respond, his eyes screwed shut. Chasten felt a prick of worry.

“Give me a color, babe.”

Pete swallowed, and slowly opened his eyes. “Green. Very green.” 

“Good. Sunday, after breakfast with Jimmy Carter I am definitely fucking you.”

“Jesus.”

“Will not be in attendance at that particular time. And then, Tuesday, when the results are in, I am going to take my time, make you beg for it. You’re going to have to bite down on a pillow, babe, I promise, because I’m going to make you scream.”

Pete was breathing hard, and Chasten savored the flush high in his cheeks. “And then, once you come, I’m going to fuck you, and it’s gonna be really fucking good, babe. But now,” he added abruptly and cheerily, “it’s time for bed.” 

Pete blinked, swallowed, clearly trying to compose himself. “I’m not sure how you think I’m supposed to sleep after that, love.”

“You’re pretty smart, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” Chasten paused for a second. “Be good for me, Peter. Don’t cheat. I’ll be very disappointed.”

Pete blushed. “I’ll be good,” he said. “I promise.” 

**February 22 - Denver, CO**

Chasten kissed Pete as soon as the door closed, pushing his husband up against the door. Pete looped his arms around Chasten’s neck and relaxed against the solid surface at his back, making small, needy sounds against Chasten’s lips. 

He helped Chasten rid first himself, then Pete of their jackets, and let his arms fall to his sides as Chasten undid his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. Chasten’s eyes were drawn to the flash of color peeking out as he undid Pete’s right cuff and suddenly the world stilled to a halt. He swallowed against a swell of emotion, touching the rainbow bracelet. He looked up and met Pete’s eyes. 

“That was…” Pete breathed. “I don’t even know. It was a lot.”

Chasten nodded, unsure if his voice would carry. 

“Nine.” Pete shook his head in wonder. “Nine years old. I can’t imagine if…” 

“I know,” Chasten said. His voice shook, but it carried. 

He slid Pete’s shirt from his shoulders and took his wrist again, caressing the strip of skin next to the bracelet. 

“Fuck anyone who says you’re not gay enough,” he said, full of a fierce desire to protect his man. “Fuck anyone who pretends what you’re doing isn’t a big deal. That kid was nine years old. And he drew courage from you just being you.”

Pete threw his arms around Chasten’s neck again, pushing into a tight embrace. 

“I love you,” he whispered in Chasten’s ear. 

“I love you too,” Chasten replied, biting back the tears threatening to form. 

He held Pete close, breathing against his neck, for long minutes. He wasn’t sure how long they stood like that, but after a while, Pete lifted his head from Chasten’s shoulder to whisper in his ear again: 

“Fuck me.” 

Chasten laughed and drew back so he could see Pete’s face. 

“That was a 180,” he said.

“Was it?” Pete mock-frowned. “Well, still.” 

“I suppose I promised,” Chasten said with, in his own estimation, exquisitely feigned reluctance. “But it wouldn’t hurt,” he continued, lowering his voice, “if you asked nicely.” 

“Please,” Pete said, without missing a beat, resting his cheek on Chasten’s shoulder again. “Please fuck me. Please fuck me hard. I need you.” 

“Okay. Get ready for bed, please.” 

He unbuttoned his own shirt watching the loom band where Pete had left it on the desk, swallowing over and over to keep his emotions in check. 

“Get in bed,” he instructed as he passed Pete in the bathroom door. “Start getting ready for me.” 

Pete swore softly under his breath, and Chasten grinned to himself when he shut the door. 

Left to his own devices, Pete could rile himself up almost better than Chasten could, and when he came out of the bathroom he had to remind himself he had, in fact, told Pete to get ready and couldn’t really be annoyed that he’d started without him. That didn’t stop him from throwing out a sharp “stop it”, nor did it do anything to douse his smug glee and the bolt of arousal that shot through him when Pete immediately acquiesced, dragging his fingers out of himself and letting his hands drop to the sheets. 

“Good,” Chasten said, noting the almost imperceptible incline of Pete’s head at the praise. He was, after all, a dedicated observer of all things turning Pete Buttigieg on. He’d been one for years, since just minutes after they met. Towards the end of their first conversation on FaceTime, he’d made a double entendre and watched Pete blush prettily. Not long after, he’d decided to make it his life’s mission to make that happen as often as possible.

He knelt between Pete’s spread legs. His husband was breathing heavily, his dick curved up against his stomach. He touched Pete’s hole, and realized Pete had gotten himself all the way ready. He pushed three fingers inside quickly, just to be safe, drawing a sharp gasp from Pete. 

“Are you ready for me, babe?” He scissored his fingers carefully, and bit back a moan of his own when Pete rocked his hips against his hand. 

“Yes, I’m ready. Please,” Pete pleaded, and Chasten couldn’t really argue with that. 

“Hands and knees.” 

He debated skipping the condom, but in the end practicality won out and he put it on, slicking himself up and pushing inside. Pete groaned and hung his head, breathing against the sensations. 

“Fuck, babe, that feels so good.” His voice was tight.

Chasten took hold of Pete’s hips. He drew back slowly, then pushed all the way back in forcefully, drawing a moan from Pete. He wasn’t going to last long like this, inside Pete’s tight heat and with his desperate voice in his ear, but he thrust in hard again, savoring the needy sounds from deep in Pete’s chest. 

“Is that good, Peter?”

“Yes, fuck, so good,” Pete gasped.

He set an aggressive rhythm, holding on to Pete’s hips tightly. He tried to resist the temptation to lose himself in the feeling, focusing his attention instead on Pete. He noticed the ever-changing, ever-fascinating shifts in his breathing and the noises he made when Chasten was pressed tightly against him, the way his whole body tightened as if he was about to come and then relaxed when he pinched himself and the moment passed. 

When he felt his own orgasm building it felt too soon, because Pete was moaning under his hands. He could never really resist moaning Pete, or the urge to push him beyond moans to whimpers, but before he could make the decision to slow down it was over. Orgasm hit him like a two-by-four to the back of the head and he gave a muted shout as he came, collapsing forward slightly over Pete’s back. 

He pulled out carefully, wincing apologetically when Pete hissed.

“You did really good,” he said, resting a hand on the small of Pete’s back. 

“Thank you,” Pete replied breathlessly. 

When he came back from the bathroom, Pete had turned to his back and was scrolling something on his phone. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Horny as fuck,” Pete said emphatically, lowering his phone to grin at him. 

“But okay?” Chasten asked, feeling silly for worrying but not able to help himself. 

“Very okay. Really good. Thank you, babe.”

Chasten leaned in to kiss Pete’s cheek and glanced at his phone. “Nevada returns?” 

“Yeah,” Pete said heavily, putting his phone away. “Not great bedside reading.”

“No,” Chasten agreed. “How about we sleep instead?”

“Sleep sounds good.” 

**February 24 - Arlington, VA**

They got to Arlington with almost an hour to spare. The mood was electric. ‘Eight thousand people,’ someone said. ‘Nine, maybe,” said someone else. ‘I heard ten,’ a third person said and Chasten felt awed. Ten thousand people? To see Pete?

“Capacity is eight,” someone from Advance noted, “but that’s the official number. If ten thousand show up we can fit them.” 

“Do we have some kind of count from the line?” someone asked them.

Chasten didn’t hear the answer. He glanced over at Pete, who was tapping his foot nervously going over his notes. 

“Guys, could we have the room for fifteen minutes?” 

The room fell quiet as a dozen pairs of eyes found him. 

“There’s another holding room down the hall,” the guy from Advance offered. 

Chasten locked eyes with Saralena, and she nodded. He watched in admiration as she efficiently herded people from the room. When the door clicked behind her he looked over to realize Pete was in turn watching him with a small wry smile. 

“What?” he asked in mock curiosity.

“I feel like this is part of The Plan,” Pete said. Chasten quietly congratulated himself for successfully teaching his husband how to signal he was capitalizing spoken words.

“It’s not supposed to be.” He scooted closer to Pete and put a hand on his shoulder. “You look really nervous. Are you?”

Pete laughed, turning to face Chasten more fully. “Yeah, I guess I am. I don’t know why, but I am.” 

“What would help, you think?”

Pete thought, pressing his lips together. “I could blow you?” he suggested finally. 

“How would that help your nerves?” Chasten asked, amused, but he was already reaching to undo his fly. He was absolutely not about to turn down a blowjob. 

“I don’t know,” Pete said. He stood and grabbed a pillow from the seat he’d vacated, dropping it on the floor between Chasten’s spread legs, before walking to the door and turning the lock. “But it would distract me.” 

Chasten felt like a horny teen struggling with his pants, but Pete didn’t laugh. “And,” he added with a small smile, watching Chasten finally succeed in getting out of the jeans, “it could be part of The Plan?”

Sometimes Pete said things that made Chasten melt with emotion. Other times, he said things that made him melt in a more specific sense, like molten lava pooling in the pit of his belly. An offer like this, a blowjob and no reciprocation, willingly and eagerly adding to his own torment, that made Chasten melt. He could feel the energy shifting in the room, could see it in the subtle change in Pete’s stance. He smiled. He could work with this.

“Yeah?” he said, modulating his voice low. “You want to be a good boy for me, Peter?” 

Pete swallowed. “Yes. Please. Let me.”

Chasten’s chest felt like it was expanding and contracting simultaneously. He wasn’t sure he’d ever cease to be amazed by the easy way he and Pete fit together. “Come here.” 

Pete took off his jacket and draped it over a chair, then moved over to the couch and knelt on the pillow. He looked up through his lashes as he leaned in and nuzzled Chasten’s thigh, pressing kisses to the sensitive inside. Chasten reached out, cupping his cheek gently. Pete closed his eyes and smiled, turning his head so Chasten’s fingers slid into his hair. He took the hint and settled his hand on the crown of Pete’s head, applying just the barest of pressure.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Pete said, leaning in to lick a broad stripe up Chasten’s dick. 

“No,” Chasten choked out. He sucked in a breath, marveling at how quickly Pete could turn him all the fucking way on. “But we’ve worked with less time.” 

Pete huffed out a laugh against Chasten’s skin. “Remember you fucked me in the dressing room the first time we did Late Night? That was what, ten minutes max?”

Chasten laughed. “Oh my god, yeah. That was unsaf--- _ah!_ ” 

Pete swallowed him down and Chasten let his head fall back against the cushion. He kept his hand on Pete’s head the way Pete liked, pushing down just a little as Pete worked his length hungrily. 

“That’s good,” he gasped, swallowing and trying to formulate words while a clever tongue was working overtime to get him where he needed to go. 

“Be careful, babe,” he said, finally, through heavy breaths. “Don’t want you to go out there looking sore.”

He realized just a second too late that saying that wouldn’t have the intended effect. Pete moaned, redoubling his efforts, and Chasten had to steel himself not to thrust up into his eager mouth. He closed his fingers around Pete’s hair and pulled his head up. Pete’s eyes were glassy with pleasure. 

“Babe,” Chasten said, putting on his most commanding voice, “I know how you feel right now but you’re going out on that stage in like forty-five minutes and you need to not look like you just sucked me off, okay?” Pete swallowed and nodded. “So be good for me and calm down a little?” Pete nodded again, and Chasten loosened his grip on his hair, guiding him back down.

They’d had many moments like this, alone briefly in holding rooms, dressing rooms, green rooms. Banishing staff for just a few minutes, knowing – but resolutely, and absolutely never wavering in, pretending not to – that the staff knew what was happening in their absence. It was so fucking hot, and it never lasted long. It wouldn’t now, either, because while Pete was being careful he was also intent, moaning on Chasten’s cock and swallowing around him. 

In a matter of minutes he was breathing in heavy gulps, pressing down on the crown of Pete’s head and coming in his mouth. It took him a second to connect with his brain enough to let go of Pete, letting him drag his mouth off and rest his forehead against Chasten’s thigh. 

“Fuck,” he said after a few minutes’ silence. “I’m so hard.” 

Chasten smiled. “Well, that’s not going to be a good look. You’d better think of something unsexy and try to calm down.”

“I’m finding it’s harder and harder to think of something unsexy as this plan progresses,” Pete admitted as he got to his feet. 

“That’s kind of the challenge, babe,” Chasten said, smoothing over Pete’s hair and then reaching for his jeans. “Now go get ready to speak to ten thousand people.”

**February 25 - Charleston, SC**

He could tell the second he walked into the hotel conference room that something was up. Pete’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes glassy, and his movements just slightly sluggish. Fuck, he was sick. The day of the South Carolina debate. The timing couldn’t possibly be worse for his incredibly healthy husband to have suddenly caught a bug. He hung back until they broke for lunch, then hurried to the front of the room to meet Pete in a hug. 

“You should have woken me up this morning,” he tsked, pressing his wrist to Pete’s forehead. “God, you’re burning up.” 

“I’m okay,” Pete replied.

“You’re really not. Did someone get you Tylenol?”

“Yes.” Pete smiled. “I’m gonna be fine, babe.” He paused and frowned, then leaned in close. Chasten could feel the heat coming off him as he whispered in his ear. “I’m starting to question whether your pre-debate blowjob is going to happen though.”

Chasten laughed helplessly and took Pete’s hand. “Yeah, no kidding. Let’s get you some food.” 

**March 1 - South Bend, IN**

Chasten was already in bed when Pete finished the last of his calls. He tried to focus on his book, but mostly he sat listening to his husband’s deliberate movements, as he closed the door to the office and walked down the hall to the bathroom. There was running water, then slow steps back down the hall. Pete opened the door quietly, as if he thought Chasten was already asleep, and smiled when he saw him sitting up. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi.”

He watched Pete undress and folded back the comforter for him. Pete nestled close to Chasten’s side and let out a quiet sigh when Chasten’s arm settled over his shoulders. 

“So that happened,” Pete said after a while. 

“Yeah.” 

“I thought I’d be more emotional.”

“You will be, probably,” Chasten replied. “You’re pretty exhausted.” He shifted against Pete, turning in towards him. He let his free hand trail down Pete’s chest and settle high on his thigh. 

“That’s true,” Pete said, looking amusedly through narrow eyes at Chasten’s hand, fingers circling gently on sensitive skin. “I’m not sure I’m up for another stage of the plan tonight,” he said carefully, still smiling. 

“How about fuck the plan,” Chasten suggested, kissing Pete’s neck tenderly, “and we just work out some emotions right now?”

Pete closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, humming faintly. “Honestly,” he murmured, resting his forehead against Chasten’s. “I kind of feel like shit still. In more ways than I can really count right now.” 

“Of course you do,” Chasten said immediately, a little embarrassed that he’d managed to forget that his husband had been going through these last few days with the fucking flu. 

“I’m sorry, I know it’s been ages.” 

“Stop it. You should get some sleep.”

“Before I go to Texas and endorse a fucking geriatric for president,” Pete said, leaning back against Chasten’s arm again. 

“It’s the right thing to do.”

“It’s the only thing to do.” Pete sighed. “If one of fifty things had gone differently…”

Chasten’s chest ached with the wistful note in Pete’s voice. “I know.”

“Yeah.” 

Chasten fell asleep with his nose tucked against Pete’s neck, his arm curled protectively around his husband. 

**March 3 - South Bend, IN**

Pete exhales shakily. Jet black eyelashes flutter against the tops of his flushed cheeks, his eyes restlessly shut. His hands are resting above his head, balled into loose fists. His chest lifts and falls with every labored breath and his hips move minutely, rhythmically, as if they’re entirely beyond his control. He’s _beautiful._

Chasten draws two fingers up Pete’s exposed flank, savoring the way he gasps and shivers and then arches into the touch. 

He’s been at it for almost an hour, with whispered words and gentle touches. He’s taken Pete from soft and cool and freshly showered to a sweaty, moaning, lovely mess, and he sits back on his haunches for a minute to enjoy his handiwork. 

“You look so good right now, babe,” he says, and a smile floats over Pete’s features. “How are you feeling?”

“Green,” Pete breathes, opening his eyes with what looks like great effort. “Green,” he repeats, looking Chasten in the eye. 

“Okay. You’ve been so good these past few weeks,” he observes, trailing his fingers in nonsensical patterns across Pete’s stomach and chest. Pete’s breath hitches when they skitter close to a sensitive area, but he’s otherwise still. “You’ve been a very good boy, and good boys are rewarded,” he continues, circling his fingers closer and closer to where Pete’s dick is hard against his stomach. Chasten traces a fingertip along the taut curve for the first time tonight, enjoying the shiver it induces. “Don’t you agree?” 

Pete doesn’t reply, which makes Chasten smile. He curls his fingers around Pete’s dick, giving it a quick tug. Pete sounds like he’s choking on his groan. “Don’t you agree?” Chasten asks again. 

“Yes.”

“Good,” Chasten says. “But I think you’ll also agree that good boys ask nicely for their reward, right?” He keeps his tone light, but he knows Pete hears – and appreciates – the edge of steel underneath. 

“Right,” Pete tries to say, but it disappears in a gasp when Chasten flicks his wrist again before loosening his grip. Pete moans and can’t keep his hips from thrusting up into thin air.

“You’re not asking for it,” Chasten notes, reaching for the lube. 

“No,” Pete agrees, a hint of amused defiance shining through. 

“Not desperate enough yet?” 

“Must not be,” he says, licking his lips and biting down on his bottom one when he feels Chasten’s fingertips against his hole. “That might do it,” he says. 

Chasten doesn’t quip back, because he knows it’s true, so he focuses instead on pushing inside, stretching and getting Pete ready for him. His fingers push against Pete’s prostate – not _entirely_ accidentally – and Pete rears up. Chasten grips the head of his dick quickly, and Pete moans when his impending orgasm recedes. 

“Fuck,” he mutters wetly. 

“That’s the plan,” Chasten says cheerily while he does a quiet thirty-count before moving his fingers inside Pete again. The second time he barely presses before he has to stop; the third time his fingers barely glance across. He pulls them out slowly. Pete’s whine at the loss hits him in the gut, Chasten is so hard he isn’t sure what to do with himself. 

_Well_. He does know what to do. And judging from the restless movement of Pete’s hips, his breaths that sound more like sobs, it’s not going to be long. 

“Peter,” Chasten says, teasing his fingertips along Pete’s length, pulling them away when Pete’s hips buck up. “Are you ready to ask for what you need?” 

“Yes,” Pete whimpers. “Please, Chasten, _fuck_ \--” Chasten wraps his hand around his cock again and jerks carefully, just once, before letting go again “-- please let me come. Please, I can’t, _shit_ \--” Another delicious tug, another pinch to the tip of his dick, pushing his orgasm further away. 

Chasten knows what to do, what buttons to push, and he knows when there’s no further to push. Pete’s cheeks are wet and he can’t keep still, hips thrusting mindlessly into nothing. He’s fucking lovely, totally gone, and it’s not going to take fucking anything to get him there. 

Chasten leans in and grabs Pete, wrapping his lips around the head and sucking. It’s like a natural phenomenon. Pete’s thighs shake, his hips jerk, and he shouts as he comes in Chasten’s mouth. 

He gives him a minute or so before pulling off, grabbing his hips and flipping him over. He pushes Pete’s thighs wide and presses inside with a groan, leaning forward on his hands on either side of Pete. Pete gasps and clutches at Chasten’s wrists. 

“Color,” Chasten just about manages to grind out. 

“Green,” Pete pants, rocking his hips back against Chasten. 

If he wasn’t so far gone he’d marvel that his husband who just two minutes ago came hard enough to see stars is still hungry for him, but there isn’t really any mental capacity for that. Getting Pete worked up has gotten him worked up too, and he needs to come inside Pete, like _right fucking now_. He thrusts desperately, over and over, savoring Pete’s whimpers until he finally buries himself deep in Pete and comes. 

He cleans himself up and brings a washcloth back to the bedroom for Pete, who stretches sleepily and curls up against Chasten’s side when he slides back under the covers. 

“That was amazing,” Pete murmurs against Chasten’s shoulder.

“ _You’re_ amazing,” Chasten says, burying his smile in Pete’s hair.

**Author's Note:**

> For the more obsessive among us, like myself, I would like to point out that I am aware that a) on February 20th I think they were in fact together in LA at the FOX town hall, and b) Pete was already sick before the rally in Arlington. I simply choose not to care about either of those things because they don’t work with my timeline lol.


End file.
